


Three Reasons

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Harry Is a Jerk, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6740011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a dick. Ha ha, you have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, Harry is an asshole in this.
> 
> Thanks, digthewriter for reading this and listening to me go on about it—and, well, everything I go on about. ♥ I wasn’t planning on doing this, mostly because I didn’t even know what it was until yesterday, but I changed my mind because of prompts + inspiration.
> 
> Written for hp-may-madness | prompts used: "Give me three good reasons why I should take you back." & Harry/Draco & face shot

Malfoy wouldn’t even look at Harry. But after a long, tense silence—where he must have realised that Harry wasn’t going anywhere—he said in a cold, dispassionate voice, 

‘Give me three good reasons why I should take you back.’ 

Harry’s mind flooded with images of them during sex; he swallowed and then bit his tongue before he could say something stupid like: _because Harry couldn’t live knowing he’d never get to come on Draco Malfoy’s face again._ Thinking that it would be a good idea to amend that to _because Harry couldn’t live without Malfoy_ , Harry took a breath and prepared to say that. 

Instead, Malfoy looked at Harry, their eyes met, Harry shut his mouth again.

He’d said good reasons. Malfoy probably _wanted_ him dead right about then. Oh, and calling him Malfoy would certainly earn, a well deserved, hex on top of it all.

‘You’re wasting my time,’ Malfoy said. ‘Either speak up or shove off.’

That Malfoy was even willing to listen to him was a good sign, right? ‘You know I’m not very good with words,’ Harry said.

‘Hmm.’ Malfoy’s right eyebrow arched and a chill ran through Harry from the coolness seeping from him. ‘I seem to remember our encounters differently then.’

That was different. Harry ran a hand through his hair as he desperately wished he could say those words and not have them backfire, but even though it was different during their “encounters” that was the whole problem to begin with and not likely to sway Malfoy into returning to his bed. “Encounters.” Harry shook his head at that. Malfoy wouldn’t even call it sex anymore. He'd called it making love.

His breath came out shaky, and he wiped his eyes underneath his glasses.

Malfoy’s expression didn’t soften so much as turn speculative and curious as he studied Harry. 

Then the bell rang letting them know that customers had entered Malfoy’s shop. Malfoy glanced at the door and then back at Harry. 

‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr Potter,’ Malfoy said with a fake smile and a pleasant tone. The other customer—a woman with two children who both looked to be ill—stood behind Harry and waited her turn.

‘That’d be all,’ Harry said, and moved out of her way.

Coming to see him at work had been a rotten idea. Malfoy owned an apothecary not far from where Harry liked to take his lunch during the week. Just knowing that Malfoy was so close, Harry had to come see him. It was probably why he picked that café to begin with, but it’d been so long ago by then that Harry couldn’t remember.

All Harry did remember was how it used to be. 

How he’d come in after eating a sandwich as fast as he could or sometimes skipping it and grabbing one on his way back to the Ministry. How he’d flip the _Out to Lunch_ sign as soon as Harry entered the shop. How they’d start shedding their clothing before they even made it to the back room. Just so long as no one out on the street saw them was all Harry ever cared about. How desparate Malfoy had been to kiss Harry again, even though they’d woken up and had each other before they left for their days just that morning. How willing Malfoy was to do whatever Harry wanted to him whenever he wanted to. How close Harry got to coming just thinking about the things Draco Malfoy let him do to him. Thinking about how much Draco Malfoy _enjoyed_ the things Harry did to him. 

How, for once, Draco Malfoy was the one who was speechless, and Harry was the one with all the words.


	2. Chapter 2

They’d begun at Hogwarts. Whatever it was that they were doing. During their eighth year, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff got all the Slytherins interested in movie theaters. Muggle Studies was required that year, and the Muggle Studies teacher—Madam Jones—encouraged it. Hermione encouraged it, hell, even Harry encouraged it. 

Madam Jones even got the new Headmaster to install a magical operated one in one of the castles abandoned rooms. So far they’d only watched black and white classics, because they worked with film instead of digital just like the cameras Wizards were used to using. But as the students figured out how to use magic to accomplish the same things electricity did, they managed to get new films for everyone to watch. Then after some first years saw an R rated movie, they had to be a little more careful.

After a lot of pleading, and Harry was pretty sure some bribing, Saturdays at midnight the eight years could watch whatever they wanted. There were other rules for the younger years, but Harry didn’t care enough to pay attention. The eighth years went on Saturday nights at midnight so he did as well.

Because they’d all been raised as Muggles and love film. But also because they’d been raised as Muggles, they didn’t realise that Wizards & Witches—especially Slytherin ones—loved to throw magic at everything to see what they can do with it. Much like how Muggles like to keep pushing their technology and science just to see what they can do with it, whether what they wanted to accomplish was something they _should_ or not. 

Harry shook his head and laughed at the idea when Daphne Greengrass said, ‘Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could watch our _own_ love stories?’

‘Oh,’ Pansy said, ‘you mean like those “write your own love story” books? I bet we can!’

They ran off to figure out how to do it, and Harry wasn’t worried until Hermione came to sit next to him a couple weeks later pale and clutching a book tightly to her chest. 

‘Are you all right there, Hermione?’

She seemed unable to speak and just shook her head.

‘What do you have there?’

‘You must never let Ron know what I’m about to show you.’

‘Okay?’ Harry sat up and discarded his homework as Hermione looked around the common room. ‘Do you want to go some place more private?’

‘I think that’d be a good idea.’

They went to Harry’s dorm room and to be safe Harry checked the map for Ron to make sure he wasn’t coming back anytime soon. He was still on the Quidditch Pitch, so they had plenty of time. He’d shower before making his way back to the common room after Gryffindor’s practice.

Hermione slowly pulled the book away from her chest and reluctantly let Harry take it from her. 

‘Is this one of those “write your own love story” things the Slytherins were talking about?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded still staring off in space not looking at Harry. ‘It’s more complicated than I first thought it would be. I thought it would be like a quick quill or something. There are all these different options: do you want a long story or just a short sweet romance? Do you want just the beginning or the whole romance from beginning to end? How many sex scenes do you want? Do you want a happy ending? A bittersweet one? Or _the ending_?’

‘Okay? So you chose?’

‘I wanted the full story with _the ending_ —the bookseller actually warned me _against_ that one. She recommends a happy ending, so the story will stop after you fall in love, but before the fighting starts. Just like regular romance novels tend to. She says that bittersweet ones tend have the fighting but then ends with you making up. But the _the ending_ ones always end one of two ways: you break up or you die. With the dying, obviously, being the only option of a “happy” ending, because you grow old together.’

‘That’s kind of morbid,’ Harry said, ‘but they’re just stories Hermione.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Read the first page.’

It was written from Hermione’s point of view so Harry didn’t catch it at first until she’d ran into Neville looking for his toad and she stumbled upon Harry and Ron on the train. 

‘What kind of romance starts with eleven-year-olds.’

‘I said I wanted the whole story. That’s when I met Ron.’

‘So it is some sort of mind reading thing?’ That was a horrifying thought. A group of Slytherin girls along with the Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws were trying to turn these into films they could watch. 

But, Hermione was shaking her head, again. ‘Go to the bookmark.’

Harry opened to the page and began scanning again. He sighed in relief when it turned out to not be a sex scene. It was an unfortunate reminder of an uncomfortable conversation they’d had in front of Harry during breakfast that morning, though.

‘This morning?’

‘I read that part _days_ ago,’ Hermione said. ‘I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it felt sort of deja vu ish and when I picked up the book again this afternoon, it clicked. I’d read about it. I flipped a few chapters back and found it.’

‘Is this conversation in the book?’

‘Not everything fits into the story, but—’

‘You think this book is telling the future?’

‘Harry, I know this book is telling the future.’

They stared at each other for a moment before Harry laughed and shook his head. ‘Even if it’s true,’ Harry said. ‘They’ll never figure out how to get the film to do this. It’s impossible! Besides, it’s too personal! A book only you own and read is one thing. They wouldn’t want the rest of us to watch them falling in love.’

‘Depends on the rating I suspect.’

#

A month later, after watching Neville and Pansy share their first kiss on the screen before it faded to black, Harry hoped Hermione was right and they kept these to PG-13 cute romances. He was also glad no one seemed interested in seeing what others were up to during the war. He was interested, very interested in what Malfoy had been up to, but he kept his mouth shut. Because for the first time in a long time, no one was paying much attention to Harry. He hadn’t made an appearance on the screen as side character yet. And Harry was desperate to keep it that way.

#

‘Harry,’ Ron called as he ran up to him after Gryffindor beat Slytherin at the Quidditch Pitch. ‘You’re coming to the show tonight, right?’

Harry nodded as Ron fell in beside him. As time went on less people went to the midnight showing on Saturdays. Thankfully, they were more interested in movies than their peers’ lives. Ron didn’t always go and Hermione stopped after the first one. But Harry always went. Call him paranoid, but if showed up on that screen he wanted to know what happened. He didn’t like the idea that someone would know something about him that he didn’t even know about himself.

When none of his friends went, he sat in the back hiding under his cloak. The look on Ron’s face told Harry, he’d be there that night though.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Apparently, Pansy is none to thrilled with her best friend at the moment and decided to use tonight to get a little revenge. It’s not going to be a PG-13 movie tonight.’

‘What did Daphne _do_?’ Harry asked instead of asking what he really wanted to know: why Ron was so excited to see Daphne naked. 

Ron laughed. ‘Mate, Pansy was talking about Malfoy. Haven’t you seen the way they’ve been arguing at meals? They’re not even _speaking_ to each other at the moment. What ever she plans on showing is going to be humiliating for Malfoy.’

‘Does he know?’

‘From what I hear, she’s playing nice with him today and sweet-talked him into coming tonight.’

‘Does Hermione know?’

Ron’s eyes went wide. ‘Whatever you do: don’t tell Hermione. She’ll turn them in!’

It didn’t have to be sex to humiliate Malfoy. It could be something from the war or even something from his childhood that Pansy knew about but no one else did. As much as he knew he shouldn’t be excited about Malfoy’s humiliation, that he should have—as an of age adult—been over such petty things, Harry really wanted to know what Pansy had to show them.

#

‘No cloak tonight?’ Hermione teased. She didn’t like idea of it, but for some reason was amused by Harry’s interest in watching the films.

‘Ron’s coming tonight.’

‘Oh.’ She buried her nose back into her book. Hermione didn’t tell him not to go or to go for that matter. Harry knew that she read “the novel” whenever Ron was away. Torturing herself with knowledge of their future. Harry wondered how much of that time she spent reading versus just staring at the book wondering what happened next. There really were things people shouldn’t play with.

But Harry pushed those thoughts aside as he and Ron entered the blue room. They thought blue was a better colour than red for the theater. It was more calming. Less distracting.

Malfoy was already there. Toward the back but in the center with his friends on either side of him. He probably thinks nothing of that, but Harry knows he’s trapped. Ron wanted a good view of Malfoy’s face, so they sat a few rows in front of him off to the side. That way it would be less obvious if they watched Malfoy more than the screen. At least, Ron would be less obvious. He could just pretend to be turning to talk to Harry. If Harry even glanced at Malfoy it would be obvious as no one was near his other side.

It didn’t matter to Harry, though. He didn’t care what Malfoy was doing in the theater. What he was interested in was what Malfoy would be up to on the screen. Besides, Ron would give him a running commentary on it anyway.

‘Do you think he suspects?’ Ron asked.

‘He will if you don’t stop staring at him.’

‘I wonder what it’s going to be.’

‘You’re far too excited about this,’ Harry said.

‘Oh please,’ Ron scoffed. ‘Don’t act like you aren’t already close to coming in your pants over this. You live for taking Malfoy down a peg.’

It was just a joke but Ron wasn’t wrong. There were times that wearing his cousin’s hand-me-downs were blessings in disguise like when he was getting a little hard from listening to his best mate whisper about his rival’s downfall in his ear. It wasn’t Ron that was turning him on, and he’d rather not have to think about exactly what it was. 

The lights went out then and the screen popped on. 

Harry swallowed nervously as they were shown a random flat that most likely belonged to Malfoy in the future. So the future and not something from Malfoy’s past then. There was normally a bit of setup and backstory with these just like normal movies. Harry smirked as he saw that this one was starting out with the traditional “waking up in the morning” introduction. 

That was how Pansy and Neville’s started as well. Watching Neville wake up and trip down the stairs, and watching Pansy apply four different creams to her face and hair. Were they about to be treated to the number of potions Malfoy put in his hair every day?  
‘Well,’ Ron whispered when they saw that Malfoy wasn’t alone and had a man’s arm draped over him as he slept. ‘That’s hardly surprising.’

But it was to Harry. Not quite as surprising as once they started moving around and Harry heard his voice say, ‘That’s right, rub your greedy little ass against me.’

Harry clapped his hand over his mouth before he realised that the words hadn’t actually come from him and that his voice wasn’t usually that deep.

‘Fucking hell.’ Now those words came from him.

‘You want my cock in you, don’t you, Malfoy?’

‘Yes,’ Malfoy breathed.

And _now_ he was full erect, fuck. 

Harry couldn’t look at Ron, but he asked, ‘What’s Malfoy doing?’

‘Watching you . . .’

‘ _Which_ me?’ Harry was surprised Malfoy wasn’t screaming bloody murder to have it turned off. But then again, neither was Harry, his eyes were glued to the screen, watching himself tell Malfoy to roll over and show him how much he wanted his cock in him. Malfoy teasingly licked the head of his cock, and Harry had to grab the headboard of the bed because he was shaking from want. Wanting to choke Malfoy with it but wanting to hear Malfoy say he wanted it more.

‘Both,’ Ron said. ‘At the screen and then at you to see your reaction . . . are you touching yourself?’

Fuck, that’s right Ron was sitting next to him. Harry covered his mouth with his hands again to keep them away from himself.

All Malfoy said was yes. Over and over again. Harry did all of the talking. 

You like the way my cock tastes?

Yes.

Love the way it feels sliding against your tongue, don’t you?

Yes.

Spread your legs for me. I’m going to come in you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

Yes!

Fuck, he was going to come in his pants without even touching himself.

‘I think he’s blushing,’ Ron said.

‘Fuck,’ Harry said and stood up, walking out as quickly and smoothly as he could considering the circumstances. His pants rubbing against him as he walked were a cruel form of torture. He had to stop himself imagining Malfoy in the same position while surrounded by his friends. Leaking precome on his pants while thinking about Harry’s cock in him, because Draco Malfoy wanted Harry’s cock in him however he could get it. 

They’d never watched just flat porn before. So, yes, sex was exactly what Pansy planned on embarrassing Malfoy with. That the sex just happened to be him begging Harry for it was pure coincidence. At the same time, so much more shameful that what she’d probably envisioned.

Somehow Harry found a toilet and locked himself in a stall. He wasn’t thinking clearly has he opened his trousers. He didn’t realise that Malfoy had followed him until the stall door banged open and Malfoy leaned against the opening watching Harry with a smirk. He’d just been humiliated in front of his friends, in front of various members of all four houses, in front of Harry himself, and yet there he was _smirking_. 

‘Need a little help?’ Malfoy asked.

Merlin, Harry’s jaw dropped, he really did want it. A part of Harry still believed it couldn’t be real. Draco Malfoy hated Harry. He thought anyone who wasn’t a pure blood was beneath him. He must be teasing Harry. If Harry said yes—like Malfoy had over and over again on the screen—he'd laugh and say, ‘I’d never touch a dirty half-blood like you.’

‘Do you want it?’ Harry asked instead.

Malfoy stepped closer. ‘Yeah, I want it.’ 

‘Anyone’s or specifically mine?’

Laughing, he answer, ‘Specifically, yours.’ 

Malfoy moved to finish opening Harry’s trousers, but as soon as his fingers brushed against Harry’s stomach he was coming. Losing his balance, he grabbed onto Malfoy for support. Harry hid his face in Malfoy’s neck. Malfoy was the one who was a slut for Harry’s cock, so why was Harry the only one embarrassed by any of this? He had no reason to be embarrassed. So when Malfoy pushed back on Harry’s shoulders to look at his face, Harry stood tall and glared back in defiance. He was not going to let Draco Malfoy look down on him anymore. He wasn’t going to let him make Harry feel worthless and small. Malfoy was the one who wanted Harry. Harry just liked the idea of haughty, Draco Malfoy _enjoying_ Harry getting off on him.

‘It’s all right,’ Malfoy said, and with a flick of his wrist, Harry’s come disappeared. Malfoy pulled Harry into a kiss as his left hand finished freeing Harry’s renewed erection. He stroked Harry while kissed, letting Harry run his hands through his hair, letting Harry grab and pull at his clothes causing wrinkles to form everywhere, letting Harry lick and bit at his mouth, even though he thought Harry was so beneath him, letting Harry say to him, 

‘You want to taste it?’


	3. Chapter 3

Draco woke with Harry’s arm around him. He smiled to himself, because even after five years together he still wasn’t over waking up in his arms. Harry stirred behind him and kissed his neck until he was awake enough to pin Draco beneath him. They’d had separate flats for a couple of years after Hogwarts, but Draco spent so little time in his that he didn’t renew the lease—that was three years ago.

Everything in Harry’s flat they’d picked out together. Harry ran his hands down either side of Draco, slipping down the blue sheets—that reminded them of the curtains at the theater they’d built at Hogwarts. 

Although many people would never believe it, Harry Potter was very insecure. He liked Draco telling him to touch him. He needed to hear the words come out of Draco’s mouth before he’d make a move.

‘Touch me,’ Draco would whimper, and then Harry finally did.

Draco’s favourite part had always been watching Harry come undone. He always would. After years together, he still shook anticipating touching Draco, waiting for Draco to say yes. He still sometimes came early, just like their first time together, before Draco had a chance to touch him. He loved teasing him, ghosting his breath over the head of Harry’s erection, licking around it when it was obvious Harry was having trouble holding himself together. Seeing how little he had to do before Harry lost control.

In bed was the one place Harry _talked_. Even if it was just asking for constant reassurance that _yes_ , Draco wanted him. All of him. His stupid, messy hair. His adorable, cheeky smile. His inability to hold himself together when he looked at Draco. 

He knew it embarrassed Harry. How could it not? So Draco always said yes. He had problems enough dealing with being attracted to blokes. Harry thought Draco didn’t know, but he saw every time Harry cast a Disillusionment Spell before leaving the apothecary after visiting Draco. Harry was so sure that the whole world would reject him if they ever knew, that Draco made sure that he never rejected him. Harry would always have Draco, no matter what.

‘You want me?’ Harry asked in between kissing Draco’s mouth and neck.

Plus, _yes_ , he wanted him. ‘Always,’ Draco added.

‘You’ve always wanted me.’

‘Yes.’ 

Harry kissed him hard, and Draco could feel the slight tremors telling him that Harry was already close. He could make it happen right then if he wanted to. Just trail his fingers across the right spot, with his mouth hovering over one of Harry’s many sensitive areas.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry asked, ‘You want me to come all over you?’ He pulled back to watch Draco’s face. ‘Fuck, you do. Press your thighs together.’ 

Harry pulled away from Draco’s teasing, giving Draco space to position himself. He threw the blankets and sheets back to get a good look at Draco. There were still a lot of things that Harry didn’t say that Draco wished he would. He could tell how attractive Harry thought he was by the look he got on his face when he saw. Not just at times like that when they were naked in bed together, but other times as well. When Harry was cooking them dinner, and Draco would watch him—the way Harry looked at him then, he knew. It would still be nice to hear it.

Not just, ‘Fuck, you look good like this.’ 

It was quick. Of course, with Harry it always was. 

He moved between Draco’s thighs as he clutched Draco’s body as if he were clinging to life. That was often how he kissed Draco. As though the moment they stopped they’d stop breathing altogether.

‘I’m coming,’ Harry pulled his mouth away from Draco’s to moan. ‘I’m coming between your legs. You feel that?’ Harry began to mumble incoherently, but Draco had heard the phrases enough to understand them. ‘You love that, don’t you? You love the way that feels. Come on, come for me. Show me how much you love the way my come on you feels. How much you love feeling my cock rubbing against you. You like that, don’t you? You love my cock rubbing against your body.’

‘Yes,’ Draco breathed, and he was coming. Watching Harry come was all it took for Draco; it would be even without Harry talking, but he was right. He loved how much Harry wanted him. He loved Harry’s erection—whether it was in his mouth, between his thighs or in his arse—knowing that he was the reason for it appearance. 

‘Fuck, yes. Come for me.’

‘Oh my God.’ It sounded like a whisper, but they both heard it. 

Harry jumped off Draco, and Draco grabbed for the blankets.

‘We’ll just be in the living room,’ Hermione said, pushing Ron out of the bedroom door. ‘Take your time. We’re so sorry.’

Once she managed to get Ron out and the door closed, Harry dropped his head into his hands. Draco grabbed for his wand and cleaned up the room, and them, with a few quick spells and moved closer to Harry. 

Draco ran his hand down Harry’s back and said, ‘It’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure they knew, and this doesn’t mean you have to come out to the whole world.’

‘You think they knew?’

‘Well, yes.’ Draco moved his hand to Harry’s hair. ‘You haven’t publicly dated anyone since you were sixteen. You’re twenty-three now, and Ron saw the same thing we did at Hogwarts. I’m pretty sure they’d put together that you were into blokes by now.’

‘They know that I’m gay.’

‘Yes, that’s what I’m saying. And I’m sure they will love you anyway. They risked their lives for you. They aren’t going to stop being your friend over this.’

‘No, Malfoy,’ Harry said, taking Draco’s hand out of his hair. ‘They know I’m gay. I told them years ago. I’m not ashamed of being gay.’

Draco pulled his hand out of Harry’s. They’d known? Everything question Draco had died on his lips. He knew the answer to all of them. If he wasn’t hiding his sexuality from his friends that meant that he was hiding Draco. If he wasn’t ashamed of being gay that meant what he was really ashamed of the whole time had been _him_.

‘Look, why don’t you go home for a few days.’ Harry stood up and began to pace. ‘Let’s just give it a few days. Let everyone calm down, and I’ll owl you. It’ll be fine. I just need a few days to think.’

Go home?

Harry stepped toward Draco then, but Draco abruptly stood. How could Harry not know that this _was_ Draco’s home?

Draco could feel himself start to shake and summoned his clothes. He needed to get to work. There were many things he wanted to say, but looking at Harry, Draco knew they’d hurt Draco more to say them than they’d hurt Harry to hear. 

They didn’t look at each other as they dressed. Harry left to explain Draco away to his friends, and Draco decided it was probably for the best. Even if he _could_ explain Harry’s mistake to him, Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive him for it. Looking around the room again, he remembered every little piece of it as they had built it together. How could Harry forget it? Had his friends really believed Harry picked out those curtains? That Harry colour coordinated the clothing in his cupboard?

Did they not look at the walls? Did Harry not wonder why he had a picture of Draco’s parents on one of his nightstands?

He took a deep breath to steady himself. Draco knew that Harry’s friends didn’t come by often. If they had, they’d have run into Draco long ago. They’d probably never stood in the living room long enough to ask questions before.

A door slammed, and Draco knew he was alone. He summoned his trunk and placed a shrinking charm on it. He started with the nightstand. 


	4. Chapter 4

‘Well,’ Pansy said, once Draco made it back to the common room after her little stunt. ‘Someone looks pleased with himself.’

He should be mad at her. He should, but he just smiled at her.

‘Shite, did he . . .’ Pansy reddened unable to finish the sentence. 

‘Why don’t you go make a film about it and see for yourself?’

Pansy sat back and blinked rapidly. ‘That’s the last thing on my mind.’ She shuddered as she added, ‘I’m scared enough as it is.’

Draco laughed and she huffed looking away from him. ‘I’m sorry, Pansy, I’ve been a shite to you all year.’

Peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, she said, ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ She had a right to be wary of him because that didn’t mean she was off the hook. He’d still get her back. ‘What exactly did you ask for when you set this up? Because if that’s the dirtiest sex I ever have . . . well, that was quite tame, don’t you think?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘You’ve read far more romance novels than I have.’

‘And your taste in them is far more vanilla than mine,’ Pansy pointed out, and then studied him carefully. ‘You weren’t even embarrassed about it at all, were you?’

‘I was,’ Draco insisted, although he had no reason to placate her. ‘I was just also a bit distracted.’

Draco smirked and she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Well, if you would have stuck around, you’d have seen—it was the first time Harry told you he loved you.’

‘What? Why would you request for Harry specifically?’

‘Honestly?’ Pansy said, sarcastically. ‘I didn’t.’

‘Other people have told me they’ve loved me before, Pansy.’

‘I know but I requested the next time,’ she hesitated, and then added, ‘during sex.’

‘Of course.’ 

Really she had no reason to be surprised when he turned the tables on her and had the exact some thing play of her.

‘What do you know,’ Draco said, ‘you _are_ kinkier than me.’

Neville blushed but Pansy was outraged! ‘How could you?’

‘Small amount of payback, you understand I’m sure.’ 

Neville and Pansy were far younger than Draco and Harry had been. Neville was apparently much more forthcoming with his words than Harry. They were probably watching the very next time they’d have sex because Pansy was pissed off in the beginning and Neville had to calm her down. In fact, Draco looked over their clothing and snorted. They were probably half-an-hour out of _being_ the couple on the screen.

‘Nice stamina, Longbottom.’

‘Malfoy, please,’ Neville pleaded as Pansy turned around and stormed off, and before following her asked Draco, ‘was that necessary?’

Draco had been serious, though. Harry didn’t last long, and Draco at first chalked that up to him being a teenaged boy and new to everything that involved sex. Draco looked at Harry. Harry had been staring at him, but quickly looked away. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that to Neville. Harry was watching the screen again, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

He was alone and sitting far away from the rest of them. Draco didn’t know why Harry didn’t sit with Neville, they were friends after all. Except that would mean Harry would be sitting with them, with Pansy and with Draco. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t ready for a great many things, and certainly not ready to profess his love. It made Draco wonder how many years out they were to that moment. They’d been older. Not at Hogwarts any longer and the thought made Draco smile. Even if he’d have to wait years for Harry to finally say those words, _they were going to be together for years_.

Pansy, with her legs wrapped around Neville’s body, was screaming out her orgasm on the screen; Neville’s arms didn’t even shake. He was steady in his movements even as he began to come—the only evidence of which were the closing of his eyes and low moan before he collapsed on top of her. 

Draco stood to leave. Walking passed Harry on his way out, he caught his eye for only a moment. 

Fuck Harry’s insecurities. Draco was tired of always being the one to track Harry down, so he went off to the Prefect’s bathroom to relax.

When Draco heard the door open and saw Harry standing there a quarter hour later, he thought he was dreaming. 

Harry hovered by the door after he closed it until Draco said, ‘Well, are you joining me or not?’

#

‘Where have you been?’ Draco’s mother was sitting in Slytherin's common room waiting for him once he got in. It was near two in the morning at that point. Cautiously stepped toward her.

‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘I’ve come to speak with you.’ Her hands were folded across her lap, and she looked away from him. ‘Professor Slughorn let me wait for you here since just after dinner, but you never turned up.’

‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?’ Because he knew there were only a few reasons she’d have to wait for him or even come to see him in the first place. ‘Has father died?’

‘No.’ She shook her head, and she didn’t look sad so much as angry as her gaze fell back on him. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I was at the theater with everyone else, and then I went to take a bath.’

‘Alone?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ Draco bit his cheek. He shouldn’t have said that.

‘I’m your mother. Everything you do is my business.’

Draco didn’t say anything, but his mother didn’t seem to expect him to. 

She stood and came to kiss both of his cheeks before she continued, ‘I love you, and I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.’

‘What—’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. I know. Certain things don’t stay secret for long. And by your expression, I know that you know just what I’m talking about.’ His mother sighed and stepped away from him. ‘In a different world this could have been a happy ending, but we don’t live in that world, Draco. If you choose to continue down this path, we will be forced to cut ties with you.’

Draco sat in the chair his mother had left moments before. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I have to think of your father,’ she explained. ‘ _He_ is their darling, Draco, and they will want revenge, more so than they already do, if they learn about this relationship.’

‘And how would disowning me _protect_ him?’ Her eyes widened at Draco’s outburst, and he added, ‘Oh, I see. It’s not that it will protect him. It’s that it’s the only way you know of to control me.’

‘Draco, take some time to think about it.’

‘No.’ He shook his head and pulled back away from her outstretched hand. ‘I’m of age, I’ll be leaving school soon, and speaking of reputations you disowning me could only be _good_ for me.’

She stepped back as if he’d slapped her. 

His relationship was too new to ask for Harry’s help and his mother knew that, but she didn’t know what Draco did: that he and Harry would be together in the future. It wasn’t a question of whether or not Draco would choose to be with Harry—no matter how long she gave him to think on it—the decision was already made. He didn’t see the point in postponing it. If he lied to her now or even complied with her now, they’d be there again in a few months or a few years when Draco broke his promise or changed his mind. 

It was just a matter of making it through this moment.

When she saw that he would not budge, she gave him a slight nod and for the first time that evening looked ready to cry. She turned to leave, but stopped at the common room door.

‘Remember, that you’ll always welcome to come home.’

‘As long as I’m willing to pay the price,’ Draco reminded her.


	5. Chapter 5

Owning a shop meant that Malfoy worked long hours. Being an Auror meant the same thing for Harry. That was how it had been so easy for Harry to dismiss Malfoy’s presence in his flat. They were both barely there. Perhaps Malfoy had been there on his days off, but they were Mondays and Tuesdays. Harry had the weekends off and spent them with his friends.

Harry left work on time, for once, to have a chance to bathe and change before he made his next attempt with Malfoy.

To add insult to injury, it hadn’t been the next day—or the next few days—that Harry realised his mistake. It took a couple weeks before Harry figured out Malfoy had left him at all. And it hadn’t become real to him until Harry ran into him while out with Hermione. Malfoy pretended he didn’t see Harry, even when Harry called his name. A moment later he was gone.

Hermione studied him as she asked, ‘Haven’t you spoken at all since . . .’ 

‘No,’ Harry said. ‘I just asked for a few days, and nothing since then. I owled him, but my letter was returned from the manor unopened.’

‘The manor? Why would you owl him there? Don’t you have his address? I can’t imagine why you thought they’d send it along, or if they would even know where he was living.’

‘They’re his parents.’ Harry was confused. They never talked about it, but Malfoy had always been close with his parents.

‘Oh, Harry.’ Hermione shook her head at him, and he knew he was in for a lecture.

After taking his hand, Apparating him to his flat, and making him a cup of tea, she sat next to him at the table and began to explain. Harry hadn’t read the newspaper since the war, and because no one had any reason to believe that Harry cared, they didn’t inform him about anything they’d read. 

Especially, about Malfoy.

Ron had been convinced that Harry’d run into Malfoy eventually and have a one off with him. But even he hadn’t suspected that Harry had started with Malfoy at Hogwarts and carried it on for the last five years. When he and Hermione had walked in on them, he believed they’d interrupted the same instance Harry and he’d seen at the theatre. Hermione hadn’t said anything about what she believed.

‘We only have speculation on _why_ ,’ Hermione said, ‘but Malfoy has been estranged from his parents since we left Hogwarts. He never went back home, and his parents publicly stated they’d gone their separate ways—as though you could divorce your child. He had to borrow money for the shoppe, so it’s likely they cut him off as well.’ 

Hermione was shocked that Malfoy hadn’t told Harry about it all himself, but Harry had explained they really hadn’t had that type of relationship. They hadn’t talked much about difficult subjects. A little about work. More about food.

Harry arrived at Malfoy’s shoppe just before closing. He must live above the shop, so Harry didn’t want to risk waiting for him to leave after locking up.

Malfoy’s face was blank but his arms were across his chest as he stared at Harry walking towards him.

‘Can I give you the first reason over dinner?’ Harry forced a smile.

‘Dinner sounds like me already giving you another chance,’ Malfoy pointed out. ‘You always do this. As a Slytherin, I respect the cunningness around your misdirection, but I’m not falling for it. How about you give me the reason first, and I’ll think about dinner’

‘Listen.’ Harry almost bit his tongue to keep himself from saying his surname. ‘I know that I messed up, that I didn’t appreciate you, but that was the past. I’ll change. I've changed, and I'll prove it to you!’

He narrowed his eyes at Harry. ‘You’ve changed? I believe what you said first more: that you’re willing to change. _But_ —’ Malfoy smirked. ‘ _What_ exactly are you changing?’ 

‘I don’t understand. I just said—’

‘I need you to be more specific. You said you hadn’t appreciated me. That sounds rather generic. In fact, everything you’ve said has so far. For me to forgive you, I need to know what I’m forgiving you for. I need to know that _you_ know what it is that you “messed up”.’

Harry swallowed as tried to think of the right thing to say. The biggest thing—the thing he wanted to apologise for—he hoped Malfoy would never find out about. Because if he did, then Harry would never get him back in his bed again. It was the thing that made Harry say _of course_ when Hermione said _Draco didn’t see your relationship the same way you did._ Harry knew that, had always known that. If Malfoy knew that what got Harry off wasn’t a mutual attraction between or even _an_ attraction to Malfoy himself, he’d never have agreed to the things they did together. 

What Harry loved was Malfoy’s attraction to him. Even if it was, like most everyone else, an attraction to who he was more than himself. 

‘I really don’t think you do,’ Hermione had said. After a pause, she asked, ‘Have you noticed you’re missing some furniture?’ 

Looking around, Harry saw his apartment did seem a bit more sparse, but he couldn’t put his finger on what was missing. Then he noticed one of the walls had obvious open spaces where pictures used to hang. Scanning the ones that remained, Harry couldn’t pinpoint which ones were missing. All of the pictures that meant anything to him were accounted for. There had used to be a chair in the other corner. A vase on the table. He used to have two nightstands instead of one.

‘Harry, I think that you meant a bit more than a casual fling to him, whether you realised it or not.’

And the best way Harry could think to describe that had been _not appreciative_ , but it wasn’t enough. Harry was losing him. And though Harry still wasn’t quite sure all that he was losing, he did know that he didn’t want to.

‘Draco,’ Harry forced himself to say, and he knew it was the right start no matter what came next because he looked at Harry. Not smirked or glared or sneered. ‘Draco, I want a real relationship with you. I don’t want us to hide anymore.’

‘You see, the problem with that, Harry, is that I was never hiding you.’


	6. Chapter 6

Harry told Ron and Hermione he wanted to spend the first night in his new flat alone, but Malfoy was there. He hadn’t really lied to them. It was the first day of his new free life. Free from a destiny hovering over him, free from his family, free from classmates and admirers. In the first place he got to pick all on his own. The type of night he should spend alone reflecting on his life and where he wanted to go with it.

But he couldn’t say no to a night spent fucking Malfoy. 

So when he ran into him while out shopping for things for his apartment, and Malfoy just assumed that Harry wanted his opinion. Then assumed he wanted help setting it up—and breaking it in. Harry wasn’t about to refuse.

He was pants at things like that. And, to be honest, had Harry not seen that apartment before—in a memory that was forever burned in his mind—he probably would have stayed lost and indecisive on that as well. 

The flat wasn’t completely furnished, but Draco made sure he got the basics. A bed, a table for the kitchen, a couch for the living room. Linen, dishes. It was still sparse and mostly empty after all of Harry’s things, new and old, were unpacked and put away, but they had a place to sit. And, more importantly, a place to fuck.

Malfoy sighed as he looked around after they’d finished dinner. Harry wondered how well he remembered the place from the small glimpse they’d seen at the Hogwarts’ theatre. Was he seeing all the many things Harry had to buy before they got to that moment they shared?

Looking around, Harry could tell that tonight wasn’t the night. The place looked far more lived in that day on the screen. They still had time.

Harry’s pulse sped up at the thought. He still had time with Malfoy. Plenty more time before they moved on with their lives to devour each other, to fuck over every surface of his new flat, to feel the press of their sweaty bodies against each other still shaking from coming moments before. 

Fuck, how had Harry been so certain he’d be able to live without that?

Because he had been. He’d been sure they’d end once they left Hogwarts. That the moment they saw was, like Ron thought, a one-night thing far in the future. Nothing to worry about. Getting pissed, seeing each other, and then walking away.

Although Harry knew the time would eventually have to come, Harry didn’t like the way thoughts of _after Malfoy_ made him feel.

The idea that they had plenty of time before one or the other fell in love with someone was a much happier thought. Happier still was the next thought that came to him: what if Malfoy wasn’t the type _to_ love? That sounded much more like the Malfoy he knew. Then Harry didn’t have to worry about Malfoy ending their thing until his parents forced him to get married. Maybe, not even then. Because, if Malfoy didn’t do love, then he wouldn’t _love_ her.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Malfoy sounded amused. ‘You have such a serious look on your face.’

Harry shook his head. ‘Just . . . the future.’

Malfoy smirked at that. ‘Yeah?’

And because every time Malfoy smirked, Harry couldn’t help but take it as a challenge he leaned in and whispered, ‘Like here in five minutes, when you’re naked on my bed with your arse in the air, begging me to quit teasing you with my cock and to fill you with my come already.’

‘Five minutes?’ Malfoy wasn’t smirking then. His breath already hitched as he spoke, and Harry had hardly begun to rub his cock through his trousers. They’d learned months before that all Harry had to do was use _that tone_ , and Malfoy would be hard within seconds.

It was only fair really. 

All Malfoy had to do was look at Harry and would be in the same position. It didn’t even have to be his _if you asked me right now, I’d get down on my knees and swallow your come_ look, but it helped.

‘Do you think we can get there faster?’ Harry asked, and then they were both up, kissing and making their way to the bed.

It might have taken closer to fifteen minutes for them to get to the bed, but that hardly mattered. Luckily they didn’t have any hazards in their way or they might not have bothered with the bed at all. And really, it did need to be broken in.

Without Harry asking, Malfoy got into position. He was whining by the time Harry brushed the tip of his cock against Malfoy’s exposed arsehole. Harry couldn’t stop the relieved laugh as it escaped him. There was an irrational fear that Malfoy would reject him, and it always hovered around him until Harry’s come—or in this case pre-come—made contact with Malfoy’s skin. He didn’t know why he felt it was the proof he needed that this was real, but there it was:

Harry’s cock slid through his own pre-come over Malfoy’s arsehole as Malfoy’s whine turned into, _Harry_.

Fuck. Harry had to pull back. He’d get hard again. Coming twice was a minimum for him and they both knew that, but Harry still didn’t want to come just yet. He flipped Malfoy over so that he could see his face. It didn’t help him calm down. Just if he was going to come without even being in him, he wanted to at least be looking at his face as he came on him.

Malfoy’s eyes met his and Harry could tell that he knew. Shite. He hated that Malfoy knew him that well. It was just sex, though. They’d had a lot of sex, so of course he could read all of Harry’s cues during it. Harry could read Malfoy’s, too.

Trailing his hands up Harry’s thighs, Malfoy asked, ‘What do you want?’

‘It’s not about what I want,’ Harry said. It was true enough. Harry couldn’t get off unless Malfoy was loving it.

Malfoy smirked. ‘I want . . . it to be about what you want.’

He did that every once in awhile. Wanted to learn something new about Harry. Swallowing, Harry threaded his fingers through Draco’s and pressed his hands back against the pillows on either side of his head. Both his arms were bare then. With Voldemort’s power gone, so were all his marks. Not just faded, but gone like he was. It was still there, though. Hiding under the surface. Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy’s arm to look at his face.

‘Are you serious?’

Harry could feel himself blush. It was the ultimate symbol of this thing he couldn’t explain about his relationship with Malfoy. The symbol of a pledge to serve the man who plotted Harry’s murder, and a message that said they hated everything that Harry was. Malfoy took the pledge, believed the message, and now he swallowed around Harry’s cock and begged for his come.

There was a spell that made the Dark Mark show itself. It didn’t hurt that Harry could tell. Auror training had just started, so Harry hadn’t had a chance to use the spell on a Death Eater yet. They practiced the spells on tattoos in training.

Malfoy knew of the spell, of course. They’d used it on him for his trial. 

Nodding, Harry rubbed his thumb over Malfoy’s hand to try and calm him down.

‘Why?’

‘It’s part of you,’ Harry said, and when Malfoy gave him a stern look he added, ‘You like my scar.’

‘That actually is a part of you.’

‘It’s a mark that showed part of Voldemort’s soul was inside me most of my life.’ After a beat, Harry continued, ‘And even if it wasn’t that—it’ll always be the mark I got from the night my parents were murdered.’

Malfoy bit his lip as he considered it. Finally, he nodded. Harry released his hands and moved to lay half next to and half on top of him. It took a few tries before Harry could even get a faint trace of it. Malfoy’s fingers were in Harry’s hair as he worked. They traced his scar and Harry didn’t push his hand away. It’d been awhile since he pushed Malfoy’s hand away from his scar anyway.

It had always caused a fight with Ginny when Harry pushed her away, but Malfoy accepted it. He was patient. Getting closer and closer, stopping when Harry wanted him to until Harry didn’t want him to anymore.

They stared down at the mark once it appeared.

Harry ran his thumb around the mark, not touching it and causing Malfoy to hold his breath. Slowly, Harry brought his lips to Malfoy’s wrist and then kissed around the area his thumb had just traced. Since Malfoy didn’t stop him, Harry started at his wrist and kissed up Malfoy’s arm. It was just a tattoo anymore. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t tell if his lips were touching the mark or not.

But Malfoy’s breathing and erection told Harry what his eyes couldn’t see. His breath hitched when he first touched it. His cocked filled and hardened as Harry breathed across it. Harry’s waning erection sprang to life from Draco’s reactions.

‘Do you like this?’

Malfoy didn’t answer, but Harry didn’t need him to. His body answered for him. Harry’s lips moved from Malfoy’s arm back to his mouth and their erections brushed as Harry moved back on top of him. Malfoy sat up, pulling Harry into his lap.

It caught Harry off guard and he pulled up, grabbing the headboard. His cock was in Malfoy’s face, and Malfoy took the opportunity to tease Harry by breathing over its head, and to trail his fingers down Harry’s crack. Harry felt the spell both from its effect and Malfoy whispering the incantation over his cock.

‘Harry, are you okay?’

Harry nodded, but couldn’t speak. He’d never done this before. Of course, Malfoy knew that, because he’s the only one Harry had ever had sex with. They’d talked about it—Harry didn’t remember when he just remembered telling him. Sometime during one of their first times, back when they still only met in bathrooms.

‘I want you,’ Malfoy said and the words relaxed Harry enough for him to slip his first finger inside Harry. ‘You’re already so close, Harry. Just relax.’ 

Malfoy rubbed Harry’s thigh with his free hand, and Harry nodded again. It was different, but it didn’t hurt. Felt a little weird. Malfoy was right: Harry had been close. Malfoy already found Harry’s prostate and Harry bit his lip and shuddered as Malfoy’s finger moved against it.

‘Merlin, I want you, Harry.’ 

Looking down, Harry saw the Dark Mark flexing between his legs as Malfoy worked his finger in and out of him. ‘Fuck,’ Harry said. ‘What do you want to do to me?’

When he looked at Malfoy’s face, Malfoy wasn’t smirking like Harry expected. His eyes were widened with surprise. Harry was a little surprised himself. Malfoy didn’t talk and Harry did during sex. It was their thing. As Malfoy fumbled for words, Harry cut him off. Just because they were doing something new didn’t mean they had to change everything. 

‘You want to fuck me, Malfoy?’ The words helped Harry relax even more, helping Malfoy move in and out of him more freely. 

If Harry kept talking, they might not get around to Malfoy’s cock inside him until their second round. But as the pressure built, Harry saw why it was easy for him to get Malfoy to beg for this. Harry started to say something to that effect, but the look that Malfoy was giving him stopped the words in his throat. He never could speak when Malfoy looked at him like that. Harry knew what that look meant. He was about to come, and Harry wasn’t even touching him. 

Malfoy leaned forward so Harry went to meet him halfway, only Malfoy didn’t kiss him.

Instead, he whispered against his lips, ‘I want to make love to you, Harry.’


End file.
